


Replacement

by highschoolmusical2



Category: Homestuck
Genre: DirkHal twins au, M/M, Multi, Stridercest - Freeform, we have not reached alphadave/dirk yet so heads up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1383757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highschoolmusical2/pseuds/highschoolmusical2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk and Hal are twins, Dave is a bigshot director passing through their small town. Dirk gets interested.<br/>Hal is jealous of Dirk's crush, and so he makes a bet. (The bet being that Dirk cant get into Dave's pants.)  Because he knows it's pre unlikely some punk ass teenager is gonna bag a celebrity<br/>But then, oh shit he might actually have a chance, so Hal tries to sabotage stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. man listen, stairs. i am TELLING you

**Author's Note:**

> im gonna pop some tags

It’s warm at the party, and everything seems slow and dulled, the background noise of people chatting and laughing mixing together to create a buzzing drone that itches at the back of your skull. You head outside to escape the body heat circulating through the living room, to find it’s barely a different temperature out here. The black expanse of sky with little pinpricks of stars and far off suns calms you though, and below this the strung up fairy lights are blurred bursts, the glare of them resulting in frayed strings of whiteness slashing across your vision. You hear the squelch of a sneaker in a damp patch of grass, causing you to turn and face him. Your twin brother. It’s like looking in a mirror essentially. Not even just in the way he looks, but in the way he shifts towards you, calculated, calm. Feeling your face brighten, you give him a nod of acknowledgement. You’re glad he came out and found you; you were going to ask if you guys could leave already. Roxy hadn’t shown up, that cute guy in your physics class was a no-show, and everyone else you could stand was preoccupied or hell knows where. It’s been a bust, and you’re ready to throw in the towel on this social excursion. Before you can open your mouth though, Hal shifts up closer, standing right beside you with his shoulder brushing against yours. It’s a simple, casually done gesture, but you find yourself quiet as he tilts his head, looking up at the stars like you were minutes before. It’s different though, the way he looks. His eyes are scanning the universe above them, with an old yet strong sense of wonder. He had never stopped being amazed by things, everything. You were both 17 now, but it was as if he’d managed to preserve pieces of his youth, the parts that allowed him to analyze even the most trivial of subjects for decades, rabid curiosity fueling his relentless gaze and scope. You catch yourself staring and it makes you flinch slightly, enough to make Hal turn to face you. Neither of you are wearing shades. The sudden intense connection of eyes quickly makes you look down at the dark ground.  
  
“Let’s go over there, it’s quieter.” You say, pointing to a shadowed region of the yard, away from the few people wandering through the grass.  
  
Hoping this sudden action would cause him to forget your previous skittish reactions; you saunter over ahead, away from the quiet din of murmuring teens and towards the short shrills of crickets. Feeling, more than hearing, him follow, you turn back to gaze at the house, people like shadow puppets in the light of the windows and the half shut curtains. Tension bubbles back up in your body as Hal resettles beside you, following your gaze.  
  
“Shitty party, huh?” He remarks, sending you a sly grin. He moves his cup between his hands.  
  
“Yep.” Your voice falters. Attempting to cover it up with a cough, you shrug. “M’not surprised though.”  
  
“And that doesn’t surprise me. You’re both rigidly pessimistic and realistic.” He pauses for a moment, “Probably a little masochistic too since you keep dragging yourself to these.”  
  
You make a non-committal grunt in reply. Parties aren’t the bane of your existence or anything, but you can’t muster the will to explain anything to the boy who’s standing so hair raisingly close to you, or explain to yourself why the lack of distance is making you so uneasy.  
Why are you so out of it? You look at the plastic cup clenched in your fingers, still full. Vodka and orange juice. You even haven’t taken a sip yet. Looking over at Hal’s hand, you’re surprised to see an empty cup. He didn’t…he didn’t actually drink, did he? You amuse yourself with the possibility. He was always going on and on about how it dumbed you down, impaired your senses, messed with your memory and resulted in delayed reactions, and honestly what sort of idiot would willingly would hinder himself like that, etc. etc. etc. Then again, he’d been acting different lately. Head locks and teasing punches ended in long, gentle touches, fingers sliding down arms and backs. Silence between one another had gone from a comfortable occurrence to strange anxiousness at something building up in the air, its fingers pressing against their sides. At least, that’s how it felt to you. And it’s ridiculous, the whole thing, because you feel like you’re looking too much into things, and then not enough, and you’re ready to believe that your own mind is just playing tricks on you. Everything is, and has been, the same. You hadn’t changed anything. Hal couldn’t have changed anything.  
So it can’t have been anything alcoholic in the empty cup, you’re sure of it. Positive. Yet even after this firm verdict you become slightly less sure as he turns to you, faces level and close, eyes trapping yours.  
As his fingers clasp around your shoulder you breath hitches, but you aren’t surprised, not really, not until his lips brush against yours.


	2. HE HE HE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoa i finally feel like i got this show on the road sort of  
> yeah idk  
> we still dont meet Dave btw what an elusive fucker huh

When you first heard about the celebrity sightings, you didn’t think much of it. In a small town like this, things were overblown on a daily basis, and even if there _was_ some famous shmuck prancing around, it was of no interest to you. Even Dirk shrugged off the rumours; his interest not piqued enough to investigate them. The same couldn’t be said for your mutual friend. Roxy had turned to you, hoping that you would be easier to convince than your twin.  

“C’mon, Hal. You’re not gonna be a huge stick in the mud like _Dirk_ here, are you?” She pouts, putting emphasis on his name and shooting him a look.

He doesn’t look up from his work, shoulders hunched in concentration and blueprints spread out before him. “Sorry Rox, I’m just not in the mood to play detective right now. I’m hardly a tightass for not running around with you guys to find some half-baked star.“  He glances up momentarily, ”Whose very presence, I might add, has possibly been fabricated, produced from the womb of small town gossip.”

She points a pink fingernail at him in indignation. “Trust me, you’re competing with Jane right now in the tightass Olympics and you’re headed straight for the gold. And y’know what, she’s not even competing this time ‘round. She’s totes living up to her rep, being a gutsy lil gumshoe and helping me scope out the possible famous dude drop in.” 

You sit back, smirking a little as Dirk looks up at you two, bare orange eyes meeting your shaded red ones, silently asking for help. His own identical sunglasses are currently perched up upon his head. You indulge his non-verbal pleas, putting a hand on Roxy’s shoulder.

“Forget him. He’s just anti-fun times, and if we make him engage in any activity even just remotely exuding the possibility of enjoyment, he’ll probably piss himself in awe. We gotta start off with small steps on his journey to pull the stick out of his ass, ease it out nice and slow with some mildly scintillating experiences, like leaving the house.”

Dirk doesn’t look up as he protests, “I leave the house just as much as you do, if not more.”

He’s right. Both of you aren’t exactly social butterflies, usually content with just each other’s company. Usually. Lately, you’ve noticed, Dirk seems more distanced, and whether it’s from you or the general populace, you’re not sure. In the past month, he’s been stepping out the door much more frequently, with barely an acknowledgement or a good bye. It bugs you a little, but it’s not like you need the guy to breathe. And you know better than to think he’s _purposely_ avoiding you. It’s just…you have your own shit going on too, and you still find the time to acknowledge his existence. It just would be nice for him to include you in whatever he’s cooking up once in a while, like he used to.  Like right now for instance. You lean over the side of the table, across from Dirk, curiously scanning the designs scattered across the large sheets of paper.  You’d stopped offering to help him with his robotics projects a little while ago, knowing his answer nowadays would always seem to be a resounding ’no’. He never offered a satisfying justification for his sudden unwillingness to accept help, and you open your mouth to point it out for what may be the hundredth time.

Roxy groans impatiently before you can say a word, “ _Whatever,_ point is, you’re lame, and me and Hal are gonna go fuck shit up, and find like, seven famous dudes. “ She slings her arms around your shoulders, lips pursed in a defiant pout.

“Have fun.” Dirk replies offhandedly.

Roxy’s hand moves to your wrist, pulling you to the door, and calling back to Dirk, “We will!”

The two of you descend the stairs of the apartment, the one you and Dirk were rooming at while you both attended the community college. The college and the apartment are nice enough, and aren’t exactly where Dirk had seen himself post-secondary education. You yourself didn’t give it much thought. The future for you had always simply meant to be at Dirk’s side.  
Roxy fills you in as you clatter down the steps, scarf trailing behind her. It was purely aesthetic, the purple striped fabric draped over her shoulders, considering it was warm enough out to go sleeveless. Not that you were rocking the bare shoulders, t-shirts with obnoxious slogans suited you just fine. Today’s shirt read ‘The Sarcasm Foundation-like we need your support.’

“So like I said, nobody knows who actually oogled the guy in the first place, but he’s apparently this hot and upcoming babelicious director. If worst comes to worst a regular ol’ hot guy decided to stroll through town, and hey we should be getting in on that shit anyway, right?”

“Of course. So, are there any other aspects of this guy that we know about apart from the hotness and infamy?”

You still don’t buy that there’s anything to be gained from this endeavor, but it’s something to do, and Roxy is proving to be much better company than Dirk, as is usually the case. She actually gives off the feeling that she enjoys your presence, you think resentfully, and her warmth and enthusiasm is contagious. It was these qualities you saw in her that had drawn you towards RoLal the first place, approximately 5 years ago.

She grabs the stair rung at a corner and swings her body around it, heels of her boots swiveling on the ground, “Janey’s been doing some good ol’  fashioned research to figure out who the heck this dude might be, which considering the distinct lack of actual eeevidence, probs hasn’t been too fruitful.”

You smile as you calmly and swiftly follow behind her down the stairs, hand quickly dragging down the handrail, “Ol’ fashioned research? Pretty sure that research is still quite in style. I think it’s one of those things that just keep on being relevant.”

“Oh shush it, she’s doing it in an old school detectivey way so it’s so old fashioned. It’s like a dusty old cobwebby  library that only stocks the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew and whatever else pre 60s teen detective books we can shove in there.”

 “I’m also pretty sure the Hardy Boys didn’t have the internet at their disposal, which Jane is undoubtedly using to track down our mystery man.”

“Okay, then I meant it was good ol’ fashioned research as in it’s an old as balls art, from before wizard times. That’s before dinosaurs by the way.”

“Roxy, I am, as always, stunned by your immaculate and in depth knowledge of our world’s progression.”

“Thanks baby.” She holds open the door with her hip, waiting, as you reach the bottom of the steps.

As you step into the midday sun, you blink in habit rather than necessity, as your eyes are always shielded from the sunlight. Still, you admit that your arms are nearing on deathly pale, and maybe Vitamin D deficiency is in the works with you.  
The two of you link arms, Roxy’s bronze skin even further amplifying the fact that you need to leave the house more often, and you make the trip towards, you’re guessing, Jane’s bakery. In a small town like this, a lot of local places were still alive, and better yet, thrived. Rumor had it that the short girl in her early thirties had long ago run away from inheriting a large baking company, but any direct questioning about it got you a simple “Hoo hoo! Ridiculous, the rumours being spouted these days!”  
Speaking of which, you’re surprised Jane is on board with this whole thing, being the usual skeptic that she is. Looking at Roxy, you feel like you might have your answer. Despite the age gap, Jane and Roxy were very amicable, Roxy declaring that they were ‘bffsies’, and Jane always making time for the young girl’s antics. Yet, you feel like something must be in the works, to have convinced the down-to-earth baker that there was some truth to the rumours.

“So how’d you convince Jane to look into this amateur paparazzi gag? Last time I checked, you couldn’t convince her to believe anything unless you could slap her in the face with it.”, You ask.

Roxy flicks your ear with her free hand, “Y’know she’s promised to be less of a tightass. Plus I’m her best friend so, the trust is there.”

You raise an eyebrow.

She sighs loudly, rolling her head back, “Aaand Grandma English said she knew about someone passing through, one of her old friends.”, She scrunches up her nose in frustration, “She wouldn’t say who though. Stubborn lady.”

You nod, satisfied with this answer. Jade English was rather whimsical, but you could trust her with your life. Besides, she wasn’t much for trickery.  That could be left to the Egberts.

As you near the small bakery, located by a defunct playground and a large grocery store (which was the only one in the town,) the smells perforating the air cause both you and Roxy to breathe in delightedly.

After taking an exceptionally long breath in, you turn to her,“Do I detect cinnamon in today’s bakery stank?”

“Mm. I am going to destroy the sample plate, mark my words.” She disengages her arms grip on yours, speeding up towards the entrance.

 As you follow her in, the door setting off a tinkling bell, the smell of cinnamon grows stronger, and it’s intermixed with the array of over lovely scents, freshly baked bread, melting chocolate, ginger cookies, and many more that seemed almost impossible to process all at once. Jane’s head pops up from behind the counter, a pleasantly surprised look on her face, “Oh! Hello Roxy!”

Jane turns to you and after a moment she nods and sends a grin your way, “Hal, nice to see you too.”

You nod and give her a small smile back, while Roxy practically sprints to the counter in search of free samples. Dirk and you were practically indistinguishable; both blonde heads of hair were styled meticulously with gel, identical pointed sunglasses adorning each other’s faces. Tall, lanky, and broad shouldered, the only difference being that Dirk was more freckled from being out in the sun more. And, as much as you hated to admit it, he was slightly, _slightly,_ more muscular. You both found the identical twins gag hilarious, so it didn’t really bother either of you when people had to pause before greeting you by name. Besides, Jane had gotten pretty good at guessing, knowing that the only one of you two who would be caught dead in the sardonic ‘Sarcasm Foundation’ shirt would be you.  
Speaking of which, she was getting a good laugh out of it, shaking her head and giggling, “That’s a new one, isn’t it? You really need to come by here more often with your endless collection silly shirts!”

“They’re not endless.” Roxy interjects with her mouth full of small chocolate chip cookies, “I’ve counted. He’s got 32.”

“Thanks Rox, for dispelling the illusion of the infinite cycle of witty tees.” You mock sulk as you join them, resting your elbows on the counter.  You snake over a hand to grab one of the tiny cookies, nibbling on the corner.

“So,” Jane straightens out her flour dusted apron, “I’m guessing you two came here for more than just free samples and my pleasing company.”

“Don’t sell yourself short Jane, both are definitely worth coming for.” You tell her honestly.

“Yep,” Roxy nods, “but we’re also here for the deets, Janey, the cold hard facts you uncovered while you were sleuthing around.”

“Well!” Jane crosses her arms on the counter leaning in, “I am delighted to say that I have indeed found our mystery man!”

Roxy squeals and wraps her arms around Jane’s neck, then kisses her on the cheek, “I knew you could do it! Prime detective material right here, if you ever get tired of baking you could be duping baddies.”

“Cracking cases instead of eggs.”, You add.

Jane rolls her eyes and rubs at the dark lipstick left behind, but she’s grinning, “I hardly had to do much digging around. We already knew that Jade had previously been his peer, so it wasn’t too hard to narrow down who it could be with the descriptions we have. Everyone over fifty was automatically out, and that really shaved off the edges!”

“Lol, goodbye old people.” Roxy says.

“Yes, well, apparently she had previously taken a boy under her wing when she was living in the city, which was for a very brief period of time. So it was quite difficult finding anything about it! Eventually though, considering how famous he is, and how popular she was, I did come across a few articles and interviews.” Jane’s tone is very level and straightforward, but her shining blue eyes give away her excitement.

Roxy isn’t hiding her feelings, displaying her impatience clearly. She’s practically bouncing on her heels and her voice is much higher in pitch, “And? Who is it? Spill, Jane, spill!”

She shushes Roxy and leans closer to you two, voice just above a whisper, “Now, again, we can’t be sure he’s actually here, but I’m fairly certain that our celebrity is none other than the renowned Dave Strider.”

Your eyes widen and Roxy’s jaw drops, before she utters a disbelieving “No way.”

“Yes way.” She leans back and adjusts her rounded glasses, “He fits the descriptions the rumors supply. Blonde, wearing sunglasses, although that _is_ common for celebrities trying to lay low, always well dressed-“

You interrupt, “Still, that could be anyone. Why would Dave Strider, an insanely successful movie director, be passing through this place? We’re barely a pin in the map, an imperceptible blip in the radar.”

Roxy reminds you, “Jade said that she heard he was coming.”

“She heard _a friend_ of hers was passing through.”

“How many friends in their thirties do you think she has? She’s like, ancient.”

“I’m her friend.” Jane points out.

“Look, what I’m saying is that it just doesn’t make any sense.” You shrug.

It really doesn’t make any sense, as much as you wish it were true. And man, do you wish it was. You and Dirk especially were huge fans of his work, having been inspired to write and peer review papers on the meaning and function of irony for each other. You hate to be the downer, but there’s no sense in getting your hopes up when the reality can’t possibly-

“Maybe that’s exactly why he’s here.” Jane says almost to herself, finger on her chin as she contemplates.

“Hm?” You direct your gaze at her.

She taps her chin thoughtfully, “Well. It’s just a hunch but, he’s just released a movie a few weeks ago, didn’t he?”

“The movovie.” Roxy says at the same time that you say, “The moive.”

Both of you look at each other and shrug, because everybody knew that the guy went out of his way to make making sense of the whole ordeal known as SBaHJ as confusing as possible.  It really didn’t matter which misspelling of movie was right, and fighting over it would be fruitless.

Jane continues with her theory, “Perhaps he wants some downtime, to be out of the public eye for some relaxing.”

You snort, “I’d be heading down to the Mediterranean to get a tan, not to some lame ass, microscopic town.”

Jane sighs, “Like I said, it’s only speculation.” She pauses, a hint of a smile on her face, “And. The fact that Jade practically confirmed that she had indeed heard he was coming.”

“When was this?” You ask.

“Earlier today, I questioned her if I was right with my guess, and she simply replied that, oh, yes, perhaps I was correct. But the look on her face…I am certain Dave is here! Or at least, he the man she meant when she claimed an old friend was passing through.” Jane pounds a fist on a flattened palm, “I’m sure of it. She would’ve just said no if I was wrong. I wouldn’t be surprised if where she heard of his arrival was from the director himself!”

“I believe you.” Roxy tells her.

“…I guess I do too.” You watch as they both turn to look at you, “What? No really, I think Jane’s on to something. All the pieces fit; it’s just that I still have no idea why he’d come here. It makes no sense.”

“You can’t always predict people Hal, sometimes we do craaazy things.” She gestures with her hands as she leans her shoulder into yours.

You look at her pointedly, and she punches you in the shoulder.

Suddenly Roxy tenses, “Oh man.”

“What?” You ask.

“Dirk is gonna flip when he hears this!” A smug look of satisfaction comes across her face, “Guess it’s just too bad he didn’t wanna come, huh?”

“Indeed.”

You can’t help but feel a little smug too, Dirk’s high and mighty attitude having worked against him for once.

“Omigosh, what if we just didn’t tell him?” Roxy grins evilly, “S’what you get for staying at home to read robogreek instead of hanging out with us.”

You shake your head, “As much as I like the idea of upholding the laws of karma, we’ve got to clue him in. He’s probably one of Dave’s biggest fans.”

Also, you’ve very rarely kept anything from Dirk. You felt this obligation to inform him of whatever you could, whatever you think might help him. It often works against you, for instance, when you told him your weak spots, and then later got into a scuffle.  You chalk it up to familial obligation. No, more than that. He’s your brother, your twin. He’s your other half. So you’ve got to tell him one of his biggest idols is hiding out here at the moment, as tempting as Roxy’s revenge sounds.

“Fiiine, you’re right.” Roxy sighs, and behind her you see Jane looking away nervously. Dirk is pretty close to her, and you’re willing to bet your ass that she would’ve clued him in had you and Roxy decided to hide your newfound knowledge.

To her statement you reply, “When am I not?”, which earns you a noogie. 


	3. so messed up.... jelly??? omfg thats SO MESSED UP!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hotawhat
> 
> how did u read this far

You've just stepped out to pick up some spare parts from the junkyard when Hal texts you.  
  
Where are you?  
Out looking to score myself some scrap metal. Why?  
Got some bad news for you, bro.   
Also, even though I have a substantial amount of faith in your common sense and overall ability to handle yourself, I feel the obligation to remind you to be careful.  
  
You get where he's coming from. The place has been abandoned for years, no trespassing signs posted up everywhere, the owner of the property obviously too preoccupied to getting around to actually doing anything with it. You figure they aren't gonna miss a few odds and ends.  Also, you're not stupid, you're careful. Hal's even gone with you a few times, a few times at his insistence, and a few times at your request. Usually you do it at night, lowering the risk of heads turning at a teenage boy walking down the street with a jagged sheet of steel. Not that your robot building hobby was a secret, but you didn't really feel like explaining where you were getting a large amount of your materials from.   
  
So what's the bad news?  
The news by itself isn't unfavorable, but rather in correlation to your absence.   
By not tagging along with us, like a chump, you did not acquire some very interesting information in propria persona.  
Hm?  
You missed out on hearing this in person.  
Yeah, but hearing what? Dude, just get to it.  
Turns out Roxy's claims weren't so far fetched after all.  
So there's actually some famous guy squatting out here? Huh.  
Not just any guy, bromide.  
I don't suppose you'd be familiar with a Mr. Dave Strider?

You stare at your phone, incredulous. Of course you are. You both are. You especially though. You'd combed through articles and interviews almost religiously, not to mention watched the cinematic creations in question, and you considered yourself well versed on the man and his convictions. You didn't exactly agree with everything the guy put down, implied or explicit, but nonetheless you'd been captired by his particular brand of 'irony', extrapolating it to a further extent than the average viewer, in your opinion. Hell, you and Hal had even written those embarassingly long reports on the use and function of irony, and peer reviewed them for one another, inspired by the first movie. Movovie? Whatever.  
There's no way he's actually here though.  
  
Yeah, I would be.   
He's totally here.   
Somehow I sincerely doubt that. Tremendously so, even.  
Doubt all you want, fucking shoot for the moon with that shit, but it doesn't change the fact that it's definitely a thing that's practically been confirmed.  
'Practically.'  
And by who?  
There were multiple factors that led to this conclusion. You think I'm a one trick pony, Dirk?  
Jane's always very thorough with her investigations, and when a reputed skeptic believes something, that's definitely a sign that it's something worth looking into.  
Not to mention Jade dropping hints about an old friend visiting town.  
And I believe the rumor's descriptions match up with his appearance, albeit their vague nature.  
Wait, Jade knew him?  
Yeah, they used to be buddies way back before his career took off.   
Holy shit.   
Have they been keeping in contact?  
Who knows? It seems she's aware of the guy's movements, so maybe. That, or she's keeping more tabs on him than you.  
Hilarious.   
Hey, who's the one with the scrapbook of newspaper and magazine clippings?  
It's not a scrapbook! And it's got material on all kinds of people I admire. Look through it, there's more stuff not about about him than is.  
  
It's a shoebox filled with scraps of paper on your many, _different_ , idols and inspirations. You'd been planning to do something more structured with it. Which would not necessarily be a scrapbook. You could make a collage. Yeah. Hal is dumb.  
  
So you've got a multifaceted shrine. Damn. Can't say I'm not impressed.  
Look, first off, shut up.  
Second of all, I'm not going to believe this until I see it.  
Same, to be honest.  
Even though we've got a lot of pieces to the puzzle down pat, there remains a really crucial one to wedge in.  
Why is he here?  
Exactly. He's got no business staying in some off the map joint.   
Mhm. Makes no sense at all.  
I mean, there's barely anyone here.   
Quiet as fuck, too.   
The place is practically a hideout.  
I get what you're implying, but I'm still eons away from being convinced.

That's a lie. You can already feel the slight buzz in your chest, excitement at the notion. If Hal is partially convinced, then you're at least a fraction of that.  
You can't let yourself get excited, you tell yourself, because that'd be incredibly idiotic. You're an ambitious person, but you're realistic. You don't let things fly away from you, balloon out until you're lost in endless hypothetical situations and ideals, daydreaming of impossibilities. You like sticking to the attainable. Better yet, you like going about the means to achieve it. You certainly don't waste time freaking out over a guy who is ninety nine point nine percent likely not to be there at all. Great, now you're rattling off made up percentages like him.

Suit yourself, oh ye of microscopic faith.   
Try non-existent.   
So where are you?  
I'm back at the apartment where I was gonna deliver the choice news in person before you decided to ditch me.

You flinch at that. Visibly, head jerking back, outside with your phone. Because sure, you didn't purposely ditch him, but you can't say you haven't been avoiding him. Just a little. 

Hah. And what about Roxy?  
She decided to hang with Jane.   
I would've stayed with them, but I decided I'd come break the news.  
Well, thanks for filling me in. Even if I have my doubts bout the whole thing.  
No prob.  
When you're done scavenger hunting, come back to the apartment. I've got some shitastic movies recorded on the PVR.   
As insanely tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass for now.  
Why?  
We can watch em later. I'm sort of in the middle of something, remember?  
Hm. It seems you suck big time and I'm going to watch them myself.  
Have fun with that. See you later.

 Feeling sort of guilty, you pocket your phone, continuing your trek across town.  Your phone buzzes with a reply from Hal, but you opt to ignore it. When you reach a crossroad, you head in the wrong direction.  You aren't going to go get scrap metal now, your mind is too preoccupied and you want to just walk it off while you think. Again, you feel bad. You should just head over and kick back with Hal if you aren't going to dig around in the junkyard, but things have been weird for you ever since he kissed you.  
He kissed you.  
It's been a couple months since the party, back before classes let out for the summer. Since then, stuff has been pretty normal between you two, for the most part. Hal has been acting about the same. You're the one who's changed more, finding excuses to blow him off, keeping yourself busy, refusing his help. Still, there's this tension in the air, electricity zapping at your frayed nerves, and you're doing your best to ignore it, to avoid it. Neither of you have said anything about it, and you're not even sure if Hal remembers anything. And it's hard to tell if he's up in your business more, or if your persistent avoidance has made any contact seem troublesome. He's got to be a lot more touchy-feely though, that's not just in your head. Sure, Hal has always been the one to initiate hugs and other displays of affection between the two of you, but they had been sparing, until recently. The guy was being downright clingy. 

Until you figure out how you're going to face this problem, you're going to be doing a lot of dodging. 

Continuing to walk aimlessly with nothing but your worries, you eventually reach the nearby strip mall, home to the only grocery store in town. Glancing at the bakery, you remember that Roxy is probably still there with Jane.  
You'd considered asking her about what to do in regards to Hal, but you can't. Not without telling her what you  _did._ You'd accepted the kiss, returned it, and you're barely able to admit it to yourself, how are you going to tell the girl who's heart you've already broken once, who's opinion of you is something you can't bear to tarnish anymore than you have to.  
You need a distraction. Sure, you've got tons of projects under your belt that you're gonna be working on, and Hal has stopped trying to help you out with them, but all the same, you'd be working on those at home, where Hal would be more than half the time, the tension in your mind reaching astronomical levels. Something out of the house, something he isn't going to drop in on. He already gets pissed enough when you keep ditching him to hang out with Roxy and don't drop him any invites.   
Which is why the Help Wanted sign posted on the grocery store window catches your eye, and keeps it there long enough for you to already work out the pros and cons.  
It would be a more dependable source of income; the projects you were doing were mostly personal ones, the occasional commission, and they weren't exactly cheap. Not that money was too, too much of an issue; your parents back in Houston still sent money your way for school, and they weren't exactly destitute. Still, a low paying job would create the smallest of dents in the payloads you were dropping on your robots. Why not. You'd already blown through have the cash you'd gotten for the in depth security you'd rigged up on this paranoid old geezer's house. Money was definitely something you wouldn't mind more of.  
More importantly, it would be an excuse.  

They don't need you.  
You can tell by the way the girl at the counter perceptably cringes when you ask about the open positions.  
Someone beat you to the punch.  
The manager had already read over today's singular submitted resume and called the lucky kid with the news.  
It's not like they expected a lot of choices, so first come first serve was simply a matter of convience.  
Fucking small towns and their pinhole job opportunities.  
And whose fault is that? A voice echoes through your head. A voice that matches up with two sepperate bodies, but really, it doesn't matter whos. Both you and Hal never spare the I told you so's or the harsh realities.  
The truth is it's not anyone's fault but yours. You lead the way here yourself. Because he didn't have to follow you. He could've gone on to bigger and better things. Maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he didn't care. You despise him a little for it.  
If you had been in his shoes, you can't say you would've done the same. There are better schools with resources you could and do fantasize about.  
But you let your grades slip, your attention elsewhere, your patience worn thin, and while you progressed with personal projects, your average dropped like a sinkhole, sucking up your chances of anything bigger than the bare minimum.  
Hal cruised his way through, like it was nothing, the coursework as inconsequential to him as it was to you, yet he had the mind to go through it, spend the time, though it hardly seemed like it with how fast he was. His brain had always been wired for effiency, even when it was cluttered with tons upon tons of useless trivia, dick jokes, and almost nonsensical insults.  
In the end, you both were handed diplomas, and neither of you gave more than a nod and a sliver of a smile at the ceremony, which dragged on and on and which you and Hal both agreed was probably a methodical form of torture crafted by ancient scholarly windbags who decided that on top of suffering four years of living hell via pop quizzes and finals, you damn straight better prance around on stage with all the people you'd grown to hate for a slip of paper you'd worked your ass off to get.  
Hal was valedictorian. You weren't surprised. In fact, it was your personal highlight of the whole ordeal, if only because his speech shoehorned in every awful reference you could think of. You weren't the only one laughing, but you liked to think you were high scoring with the decibal level of your guffaws.  
You love your twin. You hate your twin.  
You're very very fucking confused about your twin and you need time to think about what the fuck was happening at that party.

Happened. Past tense. It was a fluke.  
It didn't mean anything. Accidents happen. A guy needs his space to reflect on major fuck ups sometimes.

"I'm so sorry," the girl at the counter says, legitimate dismay on her face. Cat Pun Girl. She seems to be reigning them in in the workplace. You commend her.  
"No problem. Thanks for your time." You tell her, because it's the polite thing, and she at least let you in on the situation instead of leaving you with false hopes.  
"Equius just had so much trrrouble finding work because of his scary rep and without my recommendation, well!", she shakes her head, short mousey brown hair becoming even more of a mess, "He's gonna be on crate duty though, that's fur sure! Big guy'll bruise anything he touches."  
The way she speaks about him, olive green eyes lighting up, you can tell he's important to her. You wouldn't want to try and beat down this guy anyway. He sounds like he could drill you into the core of the earth with a handshake. You pray for the feeble rinded fruit.  
"Sounds like you've got his back. He's gotta be grateful for that." Stating the obvious, continuing the pleasantries. You've failed, and you aren't looking forward to stepping outside with no clue where to go next.  
"Oh! But I might be able to help you out!" She exclaims, hands moving to her face, eyes wide as she seems to have been struck by an epiphany.  
"The corner store!!"  
"You don't say." Maybe you haven't failed after all.  
"I do! Yes, I fur sure heard they despawtly need help!"  
And they do. Maybe not as 'despawtly' as she claimed, but they accept your offer right away, which is good because you haven't written a proper resume since grade 10.  
And that's that.  
You have your recluse. Hal isn't going to want to hang around the corner store everyday.  
Texting him the news get you an incredulous call back, since when have you had a serious job, Dirk? Apart from fixing people's busted tech trash and whipping up the not exactly ample flow of requests, you hadn't officially worked in years.  
I'm behind the counter right now, you tell him. It's so official.  
Don't get all saucy with the cash register. Kids swing by there sometimes.  
Hell, maybe Dave Strider might stroll in to get a pack of sour keys and cigs.

Can you even sell tobacco and booze he asks.  
Of course, you tell him, I'm 21, just like I told them.  
Ah, of course, and your friend illegitimate forged identification.  
Yeah, what a pal.  
Want me to come over, he asks. Give you some company to ease the mind numbing droll of employment.  
Nah, save yourself. I get off in an hour and a half.  
Nice stamina, he remarks.  
Shut the fuck up, you groan. You only get a 100 minutes a month.  
Who the fuck do you talk to anyway, he points out, and you promptly end the call.  
"Hey, sorry to creep on the heart to heart. I just wanted to make some purchases." A customer places a pack of Marlboros and a bottle on the counter.  
Shit. That's embarrassing. First customer catches you chatting on the job.  
Turns out its not as embarrassing as the noise you make when you look up to see an eerily familiar pair of shades and a jawline you'd traced over with your finger one or two or fifteen times on paper.


End file.
